


Demon of Humanity

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Azazel's Special Children, Boy King of Hell Sam, Dark Sam Winchester, Demon Blood, Gen, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Vessel Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age eleven, Sam Winchester was kidnapped from his locked motel room and never seen again. His brother and father never stopped looking for him. Now, twelve years later, he is found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Lock the door behind us, Sam. And put down a salt line!" John barked as he headed out the motel door. Sam sighed and nodded his compliance; it would do him no good to voice the fact that he already knew all of this.

"Alright, dad. Good luck on the hunt," Sam said instead, lifting the carton of salt. John grunted as a response.

"Dean! Do you have the goat blood?" The elder hunter called harshly.

There was a moment of silence, and then Dean appeared in the bedroom doorway, swaggering forward. "Yes, sir. And extra stakes, just in case." John nodded sharply and then turned away, heading towards the impala without a backwards glance.

Dean's expression lightened automatically when their father left, and he smiled at Sam. "See ya' later, Sammy. We'll get this SOB and be home before you know it." Dean trudged out the door with one last ruffle of Sam's hair, and ran after their father. Sam obediently locked the door and put a line of salt in front of it on the floor. Out of habit, he checked all of the windows, making sure those salt lines were in place and solid as well.

For the next ten minutes, Sam simply paced. Back when Dean had stayed at the motel with him while John hunted, he would find ways to distract Sam and make him not-nervous. But now Dean was fifteen years old, and that was old enough to put his life on the line in John's eyes. Sam just had to sit home and wait for the one day when Dean just didn't come home.

"Screw this," Sam muttered. He slumped down onto the couch and switched on the TV, flicking through the channels. He longed to go outside, maybe take a swim in the crappy pool or play some games in the crappy arcade room. But no, John would have his hide if he left the room.

A good half hour later they still weren't back. Sam was attempting to finish his homework, but couldn't focus at all on the math problems in front of him. They'd probably be leaving the next day anyway, what was the point in even doing it?

Sam's head snapped up as the TV's picture clicked out, emitting a loud static sound. The screen went gray. "God dammit," Sam snapped. Usually Sam avoided swearing, not really liking the vulgarity of it, but growing up with Dean and John definitely didn't leave things to the imagination.

As Sam stood, the lights began to flicker. Dread coiled in Sam's gut. He ran into his father's room, grabbing one of the sawed-off shotguns in the canvas bag. The weight was uncomfortableSam preferred knives much morebut having the weapon made him feel safer.

In his head he went down the list of things that affected electricity, but none of those things could get passed a salt line.

He moved back into the main room, turning slowly in a circle to look everything over. The lights were still flickering until suddenlythey stopped. Sam frowned, hands tightening on the gun. He stood like that for five more minutes, watching the lights being normal and the TV being normal. He sighed in frustration, chalking it up to the crappy motel just being a crappy motel.

He placed the shotgun on the table and went back to the couch, pulling his math textbook back onto his lap.

_BANGBANGBANG._

Sam jumped to his feet in surprise, spinning around to face the door. The room was silent except for the pounding of Sam's heart. Then the banging on the door started up again, this time accompanied by a voice.

"Please! Help, Ioh god, please I need some help!" The voice was male, maybe mid-thirties, and extremely strung out from something like pain or fear.

Sam moved cautiously towards the door. He went up on his tiptoes and peaked through the peep-hole. Standing on the other side of the door was a man (about thirty-five, Sam noticed smugly). He had torn clothing and bruises forming along his neck and face. His lip was split and his nose was bleeding. Tears shown in his eyes.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, trying to make his voice seem older. "What happened to you?"

Relief seemed to flood across the man's face, but he still looked terribly scared. "Oh, thank god! Please, I-I was just jumped, j-just down the r-road. They took my car, my phone, my wallet...I-I just need to clean up, or-or maybe just use a phone? Please, I'm begging you. My daughter is sick, I was on my way to the hospital-"

Sam sighed and undid the lock, flinging the door open. "Okay, but, uh, don't try anything, okay? I have 911 on speed-dial and my dad's gun on the table."

The man looked incredibly relieved and rushed inside, sighing as the warmth surrounded him. He looked at Sam gratefully. "You're younger than I thought you be."

Sam frowned. The man sure had phrased that strangely. "What's your name?" He asked hesitantly, inching towards the table where the shotgun laid.

The man grinned. He straightened up, no longer looking like the scared man who'd just been beaten up. "Oh, I guess you can called me...James."

Sam dove for the shotgun as the man's eyes flicked black. He cried out as he was flung at the wall, the gun far from his reach. The demon's grin widened.

"Sam Winchester, you've got quite the reputation," the demon mused, stalking forward. Heno, _it_ looked at the shotgun with distain. "When they told me it was my job to get you, well...I was definitely looking forward to the challenge!"

"What do you want?" Sam snarled, struggling against the psychic bonds holding him to the wall.

The demon's grin turned mocking. "It's not what _I_ want, Sam. It's what the big bad demons want. And what _they_ want, Sam, is you. You, in all your Satanic glory."

Sam's heart began to pound in his ears, fear coiling throughout him. "I-I don't understand. What do they want with me? What do you mean _'Satanic glory?'"_ Sam was begging for Dean and John to walk through the open doorway.

"Don't worry, Sam. It'll all make sense soon enough," the demon rose it's hand, and Sam's head exploded in pain. Then everything went black.


	2. Twelve Years Later

Sam looked around the bar with an air of indifference; he'd never been a big fan of _waiting_ for a meeting to begin, and was even less of a fan of such serious meetings taking place in open areas like a freaking _bar._

A hand clamped down on Sam's shoulder, and he resisted the urge to flinch away. He'd knownwhat was he going by now? Brady?for three Earth years, and still wasn't used to the constant touches the demon seemed to like.

"Sammy, you need to relax! Drink a beer, take some shots, pick up a girl! You know how Belial is, he loves making people waitmakes him feel important!" Brady chuckled, sliding up next to Sam at the bar. Sam scowled, shrugging his friend's hand from his shoulder.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. Brady just chuckled again, used to Sam's sour demeanor. Sam looked at his watch and sighed. "He was due here an hour ago. Where the Hell is he?"

"Looking for someone, fellas?" A sickly sweet voice called from behind. Sam and Brady both turned around, now facing a bald, fat man with beady eyes and a greedy smile; but Sam could see behind the meat-suit, could see the blackened soul. The demon gave Sam a mock bow.

"Ah, Samuel, how _lovely_ to see you out and about. Azazel has kept you locked away from most of us for a while...I myself wondered if you were just a fairytale," Belial grinned. He was looking at Sam in an almost... _hungry_ way, like he was a piece of meat waiting to be devoured. Frankly, Sam was used to it. And his teachers had trained him well.

Sam straightened up, fixing Belial with one of his best glares. The demon shifted uncomfortably. "Belial, how _nice_ to meet you, too. You're late, though, and I _really_ don't like to be kept waiting."

Belial's smile faltered at Sam's icy tone, and Brady grinned. "My apologies, Samuel," he said quickly, bowing his head. Sam held back a smirkdemons really had to learn their place. "Here, here is the item that Azazel requested." Belial pulled a small rectangular packet out of his coat pocket and extended his arm. Sam didn't move, just continued to glare at the elder demon. Belial's smile faltered again, and he offered the package to Brady instead. Brady took it with a wink.

"Much appreciated, Belial," Brady said smoothly, flagging down the bartender for a round of shots. "Now that business is done, Sam and I are gunna' have some fun, alright?"

* * *

"You are a right bastard, you here me?" Sam grumbled irritably. Brady just grinned back and made a motion with his hand that Sam thought was supposed to be an insult; if Brady was anyone else, Sam would've killed him ages ago for his crudeness.

Brady stumbled again and let out a definitely-not-demonic giggle, his face scrunching up as if in concentration. Sam scowled. "Demons can't even _get_ this drunk, you asshole! What in Lucifer's name did you _drink?"_

Suddenly Brady pulled them both to a halt. Sam was ready to curse him out again, but then he felt it in the air. The familiar hair-raising feeling of a good amount of power being released.

Sam cursed silently and then hauled Brady up into his arms, carrying the slighter man easily. Sam jogged to an empty alleyway and sat his friend down, wanting to hit himself for not realizing that Brady was being affected by another being, not by a little bit of alcohol.

Sam stood and looked around with narrowed eyes, standing ready for a fight. He let his senses reach out, trying to see if he could recognize the powersometimes Azazel liked to test him in real world situations by jumping him with no warning.

But no, the power wasn't Azazel's, or any of his other trainers', for that matter. It felt slightly familiar...

"Ah!" Sam cried out as something struck him from behind. He fell to the ground but quickly rolled away, his training kicking in. He looked up into the fat and greedy face that he'd seen no more than two hours ago.

"Belial, what the Hell are you doing?" Sam hissed. He began rising to his feet, but an intense pain in his head made him fall back down with a shout.

Belial chuckled above him and kicked Sam in the guthard. The breath whooshed out of him in a single moment, and he gasped for air. "You know, I never understood everyone's obsession with you." Belial spit out, delivering another kick to Sam's gut. Sam tried to push himself up, but something strong was pinning him down. "Even before you were born," another kick. "As soon as you were conceived all of Hell was in a dizzy about some stupid _human,"_ another kick. "But I just don't see it. They always say you're special, and yeah, I guess there's something off about your soul, but nothing worth the fuss given over you."

Sam had had enough. He pushed against the mental weight holding him down. Belial stumbled back with a shout of surprise when Sam rose to his feet. Sam stalked forward, crowding the demon against the alley wall and pinning him there with his powers. Belial struggled, twisting and growling, his true self squirming in its vessel. His power was no match to Sam's. Sam smiled coldly.

"Belial, I tried to respect you, since you're one of the oldest demons there is. But I guess you show that age doesn't mean wisdom," Sam snarled. Then, with nothing but a twitch of his nose, Sam killed the demon. The meat-suit glowed with hell-fire for a moment, and then slumped to the ground.

Sam stood there for another few moments, satisfaction coursing through him. He hadn't killed a demon in over seven Hell years, and it always felt _damn_ good.

At the sound of a groan, Sam snapped into action, moving over to Brady's side. He examined his friend for any possible injuriesphysical and to his true selfbut only saw the demon returning to normal.

"Damn," Brady breathed, blinking his eyes open. "I definitely _did not miss_  the feeling of a hangover." Sam grinned in amusement and (but he'd die before admitting this to Brady) relief, shaking his head.

"Come on, man," he sighed, pulling Brady to his feet. "Let's get back to the compound." Brady was swaying on his feet, so Sam wrapped an arm around his midsection and pulled Brady's arm around his shoulders. They began hobbling towards the end of the alley.

"Hey! You two alright?" A gruff voice called from behind, Sam stiffened, expecting more demons, but turned to see a purely human soul.

Sam flicked into acting mode. He gave the human (male, mid-twenties, green eyes, dirty-blonde hair; soul a little splotchy, but still on his way to Heaven) a sheepish smile. "Yeah, we're good. My friend here never could hold his liquor."

For effect, Brady giggled loudly. "No, _you're_ pretty!"

The man grinned back and shook his head slightly in amusement. "Well, have a good night, then." Sam replied with the same sentiment. He watched the man turn to go, and then cursed. The man had spotted Belial's dead meat-suit.

The man drew a gun so fast Sam barely saw it. "What did you do?"

Sam sighed, trying to look regretful, but spiteful. "He's only unconscious, man. He tried to steal from me and my friend, beat me up pretty good." Sam lifted his shirt to show his already bruised torso.

The man looked doubtful, not lowering his gun. Sam sighed internally; he really wasn't in the mood to kill some human with an ego. The man's eyes narrowed slightly. Without lowering his gun, the man pulled a small flask out of his pocket and popped the lid off. He flicked the bottle at Sam and Brady. The liquid hit Sam's skin with a slight tingle and he cursed. Holy water. Brady cried out in pain as his skin steamed.

The mana fucking _hunter_ began moving forward, quickly. Sam shoved Brady behind him with a shouted _"GO,"_ and then turned to face the hunter. Sam thrust his arm out to pin the man to the wall, and the man went flying. The hunter hit the brick wall with a grunt, wincing.

Sam walked forward, anger coursing through him. He stood in front of the hunter and glared. The man glared back. "I'm going to leave you here, and you'll stay pinned here for the next two hours. By then, we'll be long gone. I don't make a habit of killing humans, so just back off."

The hunter scowled. "Yeah, and what about that guy?" He jerked his chin towards Belial's meat-suit.

Sam rolled his eyes. "When I killed him, there was a demon in him. I was killing the demon, not him. The demon just pulled the human soul out with him. Shit happens."

The hunter smirked. "You're pretty cocky for a guy that just got captured."

Then Sam felt it, another soul nearby. He'd been so _stupid,_ focusing all his attention on the hunter. Azazel was going to have his hide. Sam whirled around just as something extremely hard slammed against his head. He crumpled to the ground, everything fading to black.

* * *

“I don’t know, Dad! What do you want me to tell you?” An annoyed voice called out. Sam tried to place it, but it didn’t ring a bell. In fact, nothing was ringing a bell. What the Hell had happened?

He let out a groan, the pain in his head finally hitting him. Was Azazel doing another one of his games? Because this was so far from funny. “Azazel, what the Hell did you hit me with?” Sam muttered, his words slurring together. He tried to move, but found ropes tying his wrists to the arms of a chair and his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. He tried to lift his head, but it only flailed back against his chest.

Apparently someone decided to help him with thatstrange, Azazel usually made him do everything himself; a hand grasped his chin and jerked it up. Sam squinted against the light, trying to make out his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a motel room, with peeling wallpaper and cheep beds. Right in front of him were two men, one older and gruff, the other younger and vaguely familiar…

“Brady? That you?” Sam’s voice was still very slurred, and he struggled to make words. The hand on his chin let go suddenly, and he struggled to keep his head up right.

The two men took a couple of steps away, leaning in towards each other and talking quietly. Clearly Azazel was forgetting about Sam's extended senses...which was completely unlike the elder demon.

“He’s still out of it,” the older man murmured, glancing towards Sam briefly.

The Sort-Of-Familiar boy nodded shortly. “What the Hell is he? Holy water, silver, salt, none of it works on him, but he was hanging with a demon, and sent me flying like one.” Older Man cursed in annoyance, scowling at Sam.

Sam was thoroughly confused. Whenever Azazel set him up like this, his supposed _captors_ would torture him, but these two, their behavior was…

Then it clicked.

“Shit!” Sam cursed loudly. He began tugging at his restraints. When they proved solid, he tried to use his powers to snap them, but it didn’t work. _The Hell…?_

Sort-Of-Familiarthe hunter from the alley, Sam realizedsmirked. “Looks like he’s finally clued in. Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

While Sam’s head was definitely more clear and he knew what had happened, his filter still wasn’t working. “Why aren’t my powers working? What the Hell did you _do_ to me?”

Both men moved forward, their expressions hard. “Yeah, devil’s traps tend to do that to demons. But you’re not a typical demon, now are you?”

The realization that he’d been freaking captured finally sinking in, Sam sighed. “Dammit, you guys seriously captured me, didn’t you? Fuck! Man, Azazel’s gonna have my hide when I get back.”

Older Man scowled, leaning over Sam in a typical intimidation technique. “What are you? Who’s Azazel?”

Sam scrunched up his face in mock confusion. “I’m sorry, really, but which question do you want me to answer first? I mean it’s very confusing when you just throw a bunch of questions at me. What’s a guy to do?” Suddenly the skin on his arm tingle. Sam looked down and realized that Hunter-From-The-Alley had shaken some holy water on him. Sam simply laughed. “Oh dude, you two hunters have no idea what you just stepped into. That crap doesn’t work on mewell, unless your goal was to tickle me.” Sam winked.

Both men scowled. Older Man pulled back his fist and let it fly. Sam winced from the punch, wiggling his jaw to check for injury. Thankfully, no broken bones.

Sam turned and glared at Older Man. He gathered all of the blood from his mouth and spat it into the man’s face. Sam grinned, teeth shining red. Older Man grumbled and stormed away, walking through a door and into another room. Hunter-From-The-Alley leaned against the wall and looked away, staring at the wall in thought.

Sam took this time to examine the hunter. There was something familiar about him, something about him _and_ the other hunter that Sam recognized deep inside himself…

Sam broke out laughing. The hunter turned and looked at him with a scowl. “What the Hell is so funny?”

“Well,” Sam huffed, still chuckling. “It’s just that I was just captured by the Winchesters. It at least makes _me_ feel better about my abilities. You two have a big reputation.”

The hunterwho Sam knew was Dean Winchestertook a couple steps forward, his frown now filled with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The last time I saw you, Dean, was twelve years ago,” Sam said conversationally, ignoring the hunter’s question. Just then Older ManJohn Winchesterwalked back into the room, face clean. “Hey, Johnny Boy! We were just talking about you!” The two Winchesters exchanged a look. “Yep, it’s been twelve years since I saw you two. I remember every detail of that night. Man, was I terrified back then. So scared my family wouldn’t come back. I guess, in the end, they didn’t…”

John’s face twisted angrily. “What the Hell are you talking about, demon scum?”

Sam grinned wildly. “That’s rich, coming from you. Azazel doesn’t have proof, of course, but he has a theory about you, John. He thinksand I agreethat you know, knew, whatever, about little Sammy’s... _specialty."  
_

Both men looked as if they’d seen a ghost (or something like thatthey’d probably be excited if they saw a ghost). “How do you know that name?” Dean hissed.

Sam grinned, tilting his head. “Sam Winchester, what Hellspawn _doesn’t_ know that name?” He paused, looking between the two men shocked into silence. “When did you two stop looking for your darling boy, anyway? How long was long enough to give up?”

Dean snarled, moving forward until his face was right in front of Sam’s. “How dare you, you piece of shit?! You know nothing of my family!”

Sam’s face hardened. “I know everything about the dysfunctional thing you call your _family_. I know what you ate for breakfast the day precious Sammy disappeared, I know every detail of Sammy’s life afterwards. I was there every day, after all.”

Dean took sharp breath, stepping back. There were a few moments of silence and then John hissed, “where is my son?”

Suddenly Sam could feel the presence of demon souls; he grinned. Then the motel room door slammed open.


	3. Truth Revealed

Sam's head snapped to the side as Azazel's fist connected with his face, but refused to move other than thathis mentor would just see it as weakness and have a worse punishment in store.

"You got yourself _captured?_ What is this, amateur hour?" The elder demon hissed angrily, his eyes flashing yellow briefly. Sam stood stiffly, hands behind his back, feet shoulder-length apart, and body completely straight. He turned his face back to face the man.

"I apologize, Sir. I was so focused on the one hunter and on getting Brady out of there that I lost my focus and did not realize there was another human soul present. It was a horrid oversight, and will not happen again."

Azazel sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Of course it won't! You're a talented one, Kid; I wouldn't want you to waste it." Sam nodded tersely, recognizing a veiled threat when he heard it. Azazel smiled happily, as if nothing had happened, and clasped Sam on the shoulder. "Great, now let's deal with them." Both men turned to face the two tied up hunters, both looking unconscious.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the body language of the hunters. "Sir, they're both awake." All of the demons in the room snapped to attention and looked at the men closely; some cursed, Azazel just grinned and walked forward, squatting in front of the men.

"Oh come on now, John, Dean, enough acting. Time to wake up now." After a few moments of tense silence, the humans both lifted their heads, looking very disgruntled. Azazel brightened. "Hiya, boys. It's been a while. Do you remember me, John?" The older Winchester said nothing. "Well, maybe this'll jog your memory." With a quick blink, the demon's eyes turned yellow.

John snarled and jerked forward, but didn't get very far, his bonds holding him in place too well. Azazel's eyes turned back to normal. The other hunter cleared his throat, drawing attention away from his father and towards himself. "So you're Azazel, right?" Dean's eyes flicked briefly to Sam, and then back to the demon in front of him. "Your errand boy there mentioned you, and you just showed that you're _definitely_ his superior."

Azazel nodded indulgently. "That's right, Dean-o, on almost all counts." He stood moving to stand by Sam. He placed a hand tightly on Sam's shoulder, and Sam stood like a soldierram-rod straight, hands behind his back, face forward, feet shoulder-width apart, knowing that Azazel wanted to show off. "This boy here, he's a real prize. I'm been training him since he was little, and soon enough he'll be ruling us all. Right now I might be in charge, but soon..." his smile was predatory, "he'll be the King."

John's eyes narrowed. "Where is my son?" he said sharply, eyes burning. "Your _King_ over there said he'd been with him since you bastards stole Sam. So where _is_ my son?!"

Azazel's face lit with mock pity. "Oh, Johnny Boy. You've already met him." Azazel turned to face Sam. "Samuel, say hello to your _family."_

Sam understood what Azazel meant, and nodded. He grinned at the horrified looks of the two hunters. "Shocked? I know..." Sam tilted his head slightly, and Dean cried out in pain as his heart was squeezed. John called out in rage. Sam let it go. "Ya' know, I always wondered, how _did_ the hunt go that night? Did you get the djinn?"

Dean was panting heavily, head against his chest. He looked up at Sam, his eyes shinningfrom pain or sadness, Sam didn't know. "Sammy? Is that-is that really you? God, Sam, I'm so sorry that I wasn't there-"

"Dean!" John cut off harshly. The man glared up at his long lost son with nothing short of hatred; Dean saw it, too, face crinkling in confusion. Sam simply smirked.

"I don't care what you think of me, old man. You knew what was in me from the beginning, and hated me for it. Your opinion means nothing."

"Dad?" Dean said weakly. John didn't look at his eldest.

"You are not my son," he said harshly. "You are something a demon made into a plaything."

Sam barked a laugh. "You're joking, right? Demons cower before my power. Salt and iron can't touch me, holy water barely ticklesyou should be _proud,_ Winchester. Your son is a King!" At John's disgusted look tilted his head curiously. "There is one thing I always wondered, though. Why not throw me out? I mean, you _knew_ what I was from near the beginning. And even if you didn't _know-know,_ you most definitely had your suspicions."

The elder Winchester's expression didn't change, his glare staying just as murderous. "I had to keep an eye on the monster you could be. At the first signs of you turning I was planning on sending a nine-millimeter straight into your skull."

Dean gasped, mouth dropping open in horror. "Dad!"

Sam simply smirked. "Don't worry, Big Brother. He won't hurt my feelings. I grew up knowing John Winchester would turn on his own at the first sign of troubleit just happened to be me." Sam turned back to look at John, gaze hardening. "If you want to blame someone, _John,_ blame your dear dead wife, Mary. She's the one who made the deal to turn me in, after all. Traded my soul for your life." Spite seeped into Sam's voice. John's glare wavered for a moment, confusion evident; then it was gone.

A large hand came down territorially on Sam's shoulder, Azazel stepping a little in front of him. "Well, this has been _fun,_ but we've got to go. You know, things to do, people to kill, and all that..."

Sam nodded his ascension, stepping back and bowing his head. He might be the Boy King, but until he played his roll, Azazel was in charge.

* * *

"Sam! I was getting worried, you had everyone in a tizzy trying to find you," Brady said, running to catch up with Sam's long strides. Vaguely Sam felt relieved that the demon was alright, that he'd made it back to the compound, but at the moment, Sam was just pissed. Pissed at himself, mostly.

"It's good to see you, too, Brady, but now is really not a good time," Sam snapped. Unperturbed as always by Sam's sour tone, Brady just smiled, moving quickly through the halls of the compound.

For the past twelve earth years of his life (which equaled 1,440 years down in Hell) Sam had been in the sweltering heat of Hell. He'd been tortured for years on end, made to do horrible things. For the first ten years he resisted. He did everything in his power to fight against what they wanted him to do, but he was only eleven years old. He wasn't supposed to have to deal with torture and demons and  _Hell._

He began to resent John and DeanJohn especiallyfor not being there to protect him. After Azazel told him of John's knowledge of everything wrong with Sam, Sam's resentment turned to hate. Thus was the way of Hell.

"Now is this _best_ time," Brady said, pulling Sam from his thoughts. "These coming weeks you're going to be very busy, what with _'The Demon Hunger Games'_ coming to an end soon. And now, well, now you have to deal with Azazel's fury."

They turned down another hall of the compound. Having lived there for the past four months, Sam and Brady were both familiar with the lay out of the only demon compound on Earth. If anyone unknown entered the large building, they'd immediately be lost in all of the twisting and turning tunnels that made up the establishment.

Finally, the two people came upon a large double door. They glanced at each other, both straightening up, then Sam pushed open one of the doors, striding in confidently. The demons inside glanced up at him and then quickly away, all of them knowing how powerful he was.

"Greetings, everyone," Sam said diplomatically, taking his seat directly at Azazel's right. The demons all mumbled their own polite hellos, still none of them meeting Sam's eyes. It sent a thrill of satisfaction through Sam, the power he held over everyone.

The meeting was as dull as it always was. Different demons from all over the world giving their reports on the souls they'd corrupted and the hunters they'd killed. When it was Sam's turn he presented the package Belial had given him. It was a red stonea gem, reallywith smoky coloring that turned burning hot in the presence of demons. It had been in the hands of a hunter named Lee Chambers, now deceased. Azazel took it gladly, chuckling at the now-burning touch of it.

Soon, talk turned to that of who were considered "Azazel's Children."

"It's getting down to the last few. I just put them in Cold Oak, already one's dead. That Ava chick's become a real killer," a demon Sam didn't care to remember the name of said, chuckling along.

Sam remembered Ava WilsonAzazel had him memorize the names and (later, when they manifested) abilities of all of the children that he'd fed his blood to. She'd been quite a weak little thing in the beginning, but as soon as she saw her life was on the line, she immediately stepped up to the plate. She'd killed almost every single one of "Azazel's Children" in the five months she'd been fighting.

"Very good everyone. Dismissed. Sam, Brady, stay behind," Azazel said with a wave of his hand. All of the demons filed out of the room except for Brady, who stayed sitting. Sam stood up when Azazel did, watching as his mentor looked him over, assessing.

"Sam, I want you to go to Cold Oak. The fighting is coming to an end, and it's time for you to open the Devil's Gate. Brady will go with you as back up, and take whoever wins with you as well. They'll have their own part to play," Azazel paused, looking thoughtful. "My bet's on Ms. Wilson, frankly. She's got... _spunk."_

* * *

Sam watched the last of Ava Wilson's opponents, Jake Talley, fall to floor, dead. Sam couldn't help the amused quirk of his lips, and at his side, Brady whistled appreciatively.

"Damn, Sam. When Azazel first told us about you getting a partner, I was _very_ skeptical, and I know you were, too. But this girl? She could give most demons a run for their money. Especially with that control thing she's got going on!" Brady was grinning as they watched Ava Wilson look down at the body of the soldier with disinterest.

"Well, looks like we're up, Sammy Boy."

Sam scowled at Brady, but it was half-hearted at best; he was too distracted but the scene in front of him. This Ava had potential.

Sam walked forward, back straight and head held high. When he got within twenty feet of the girl, she looked up, gaze immediately wary, body tensing. Sam stopped when he was seven feet away from her.

"Ava Wilson, you've done a fine job here," he said, looking her over. "I was sent to collect you. Congratulations, you're the winner."


End file.
